Three's Company Too
by Beth4LC
Summary: An AU story where Jess not only figures out for herself where Sam is going with Dean for the weekend, but has a hunting past of her own. Of course, she insists on inviting herself along for the trip.
1. Chapter 1

She sat on the bed, giving Sam her best "I don't believe what you're saying" glare, but he was oblivious. Maybe lying to your girlfriend did that to a guy.

That was unfair, she scolded herself. She hadn't exactly been entirely forthcoming with him, either. But really, she had been peacefully sleeping off her Halloween night buzz when she was awoken by her boyfriend and his leering older brother scuffling in the living room. And now Sam was just going to take off with that same brother and _lie_ to her about the reason? Yeah, right. That was so not happening.

"It'll only be a couple days," he was promising to her, the lying jerk. "I'll be back in time for the interview on Monday, I promise."

"Mmm," she replied through pursed lips. "What did you say he was hunting again?"

"Uh…" His eyes skittered away from her as his hands twisted a pair of socks. "Deer?" It came out sounding like a question, and Sam must've realized because he hastily clarified. "Who really knows with him? We'll probably find him holed up in some run-down cabin coming off a bender. Nothing to worry about, Jess."

It could have been the way he reached out to smooth her hair, like she was some brainless sorority girl. Or maybe it was the way that he brushed aside his dad like that because god knows she has some father issues. But something in that last lie above all others made her snap.

"Okay, Sam, you can quit it with all the lies." She pulled away from his touch and stood up from the bed. "I'm not stupid, you know. I'm worried about you, okay? And I seriously want to know if your smooth-talking brother can actually tell you what you're supposed to be hunting! Do you even know if it's corporeal or not? Because if not, that big-ass knife you've got hidden under your underwear – You know, the one you think I don't know about? – isn't gonna do you any good." She crossed her arms emphatically, and suddenly remembered that she was still wearing the silly Smurf t-shirt and definitely did not have a bra on. Not exactly the best outfit to match her current mood, but she didn't let up her steely gaze.

Sam was gaping openly at her, socks dangling from one hand. "You… Are you… You can't be…"

"A hunter?" Jess snapped out.

Although she didn't think it possible, his jaw sagged even more. "Yeah…" he managed to huff out.

"I'm not," she reassured him. "But I sort of grew up with it." No need to get into all the gory details at that moment. "So seriously, Sam." She took a step towards him. "What are you and Dean going to hunt?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but then he tilted his head to the side with a question written across his face. "How long have you known about me? That I was a hunter?"

"I didn't know for sure until tonight," she shrugged, taking the poor pair of socks out of his hand and nestling it in his duffle along with the others. Then she took the handle of his knife and adjusted the position in the bag so it was more secure. "But I kind of suspected for a while. The weapons hidden around the house were a bit of a clue, although you could've been some CIA recruit or something. Anyway, all the suspicion in the world can't really give you enough confidence to know that your boyfriend won't think you're crazy when you start talking about werewolves and demons and ghosts."

Sam nodded blankly as if it all made sense, but then his eyes narrowed.

"No, wait, you can't just brush this off as being scared of coming off a little crazy, Jess. Because if you found the weapons, it really wouldn't have been much more work to find all the protective stuff I have in the apartment. The charms and the salt lines-"

"You put salt lines down?"

Sam nodded "Underneath the linoleum by the front door."

"I always put mine in front of the bedroom door," she explained. "I lifted up a piece of the rug."

"You put them by the bedroom door?" Sam asked, eyebrows rising. "If a ghost wants to get in I'd prefer to have as much space as possible to manoeuvre in. Not let them have free reign of the rest of the apartment while I'm stuck in a bedroom."

"If a ghost wants to get in, I'd prefer to have as small a space as possible to upkeep protection," she retorted. "It's way easier to keep track of the cracks and windows in a bedroom as opposed to a whole apartment."

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but then he gave his head a violent shake. "We're getting off track," he told Jess. "You never answered my question. Why didn't you go looking for the salt lines that _I_ had put down. Or, hey, maybe _asked_ me about the knife under my pillow like someone would do if they were in a relationship with a person they trusted!"

Jess bit her lip, recognizing the truth in his statement. She ran her toe along the weave of the carpet, not ready to look her boyfriend in the eye.

"I just… didn't want to think about it, okay?" she finally explained quietly. "I just wanted to have a normal life without any of that stuff coming into it. And maybe that was stupid of me. Or even selfish, I don't know. But can you understand that? At least a little?" She lifted her eyes hesitantly to meet his.

He was looking at her with the most intense gaze she'd ever seen from him. His eyes were like lights coming from a police chopper, and she was the fugitive, hiding in an alley with her back pressed against a grimy building trying not to be seen. And although there was a part of her that connected with this strange, new Sam she hadn't seen yet, she wasn't ready to step into the light right now.

"Sam, I know it's a lot to take in," she spoke gently. "And, hey, I have a lot of questions for you, too. And I promise that we will talk about this. But right now, I really need to know. What are you two hunting? Will it be safe with just the two of you?"

"Uh… string of disappearances in Jericho," Sam finally managed to stammer out. "My dad left Dean a voicemail with EVP."

"A ghost?"

"Yeah, maybe," Sam agreed.

He looked so _small_, she realized. And considering him, that was saying something. He was hunched over, and his head drooped low. She couldn't let him drive away like this, she decided. Letting this sort of issue fester between them for two days wouldn't do any good whatsoever. And although she hadn't missed it in years, the urge to join in on a hunt surged through her as powerful as a river blowing out a dam.

"I'm coming with you," she announced, standing as she whipped off her t-shirt. One thing was for sure; no way was she wearing the Smurfs around Dean ever again.

"What?" Sam asked, the slack-jawed gaping back in full force.

"It's your dad, Sam," Jess explained as she hooked her bra on quickly. "And I know you wouldn't be rushing out of here if something wasn't at least suspicious. I'm just giving you and Dean some extra back-up." The rest of her clothing was thrown on quickly, and she was already halfway through a haphazard packing job before Sam was able to put together a response.

"But you have work," Sam protested. "And volunteering at the library tomorrow."

"Sam, I can skip out on both of those for one weekend," she explained impatiently. She selected her hiking boots from the closet and jammed her feet into them. "This is more important. Now, are you ready to go, or what?"

Sam jumped off the bed like he had been slapped. "Uh, y-yeah." He zipped his duffle and lifted it off the bed.

His face was worrisomely blank. She had hoped to see happiness, confusion, even anger would be good at this point. But this was always the case with Sam. Big news like this was like a 12 oz. steak; it took time to digest. And she would have to wait until it did before she could really talk to him about it.

"Let's go," she prompted, nudging him softly. "We don't want to keep your brother waiting."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far. This is my first Supernatural story, and my first posting on FFN, although I have written other fanfic in the past. If there is anything I should me doing to make things easier for readers, please let me know! And, I also love feedback, positive or negative. :)

CHAPTER TWO

Sam dropped heavily into the passenger seat as Jess nimbly climbed into the back. Rock music played from the speakers, and although she didn't recognize it, the tune grated faintly in the back of her skull and she steeled herself for a long trip, frustrating trip.

Dean's head jerked up and whirled around first to her, then to Sam, then back to her. "What're you doing here?" he demanded, and then turned to Sam. "What's she doing here?"

"Back-up," she replied, wriggling to get comfortable in her seat.

Dean's eyes widened, then narrowed. He reached for the volume knob and turned his music down low. "Look, sweetheart," he drawled softly, oily charm sliding over his words like grease on a pizza. "I appreciate the effort on behalf of my brother, but this isn't really the type of trip for a girl like you."

Jess couldn't help it. The voice of her Women's Studies prof from last semester was urging her to kick him in the balls. Unfortunately, they were sitting in a car, so she would have to be a little more creative.

"Look, douchebag," she began, batting her eyes and speaking with the same false sweetness he had just used on her. "Spending my weekend having my boyfriend's older brother slobber on me isn't really my idea of a great time, either. But I was raised a hunter and so if you think I'm going to watch you two run off without any backup then you're not as bright as I thought. And at this point, Dean, you really can't afford to lose any more IQ points."

Dean's mouth quirked as he studied her silently. She glared back at him, arms crossed over a proudly Smurf-less t-shirt.

Sam remained sitting in his seat, watching the whole thing with a grin playing on his lips. Apparently, he was going to let her slug it out on her own.

"You're a hunter," Dean finally stated, a question implied at the end.

"Was _raised_ a hunter," she corrected.

"Alright, then, Miss Hunter, if you're telling the truth, then you can answer a few questions. Do you kill vampires with silver, or wooden stakes?"

"Neither," she replied quickly, rolling her eyes at the impromptu quiz. "You cut their heads off."

"Okay, what do ghouls-"

"Are you just going to ask me a bunch of gross questions because I'm a girl? Because if so, I will make this trip very uncomfortable for you."

Dean grinned, and then reached past Sam to get into the glove box. He pulled out a .45 and handed it to her.

It was a nice piece: pearl inlay handle and engraved along the barrel. She flicked her eyes up at his watchful ones. "What, no stopwatch?"

"Just show me what you got, Jessie."

"Jessica," she corrected with narrowed eyes. Then, she quickly dismantled the gun, laying all the pieces out in careful display for Dean. It was put back together and handed back to Dean in even less time. "Is that all you wanted,_ Deano_, or did you want me to shoot my initials in the dash or something?"

He pouted, actually _pouted_ at her, and returned the gun to its place. "It's Dean," he corrected moodily.

"You gotta watch the threats against the car, Jess," Sam informed her, clapping a hand on his brother's arm. "He's overly attached to it."

"Good to know," she replied shooting an evil grin at Dean. "So have I passed your test yet, Dean? Can we get driving? Cause it's gonna take us long enough to get there without you wasting time parked in front of our apartment."

Dean gave her a look that appeared to be the adult equivalent of sticking your tongue out, and then started the car. He threw it into gear and Jess found herself knocked against the back of her seat as they accelerated.

"Okay, here's the deal," Dean told her as they whipped through the silent streets. "We drive to go check out this thing. You come along and help with whatever. But on the way, I get to ask you all the questions I want, and trust me, sweetheart, I have a lot."

"Dean," Sam interjected quietly. "If she doesn't want to answer-"

"It's fine, Sam," Jess replied, leaning forward in her seat to stick her chin between the two boys. "He needs to know who he's hunting with. And you deserve some answers as well."

"Okay, we'll start with that one," Dean spoke. "Why does Sam deserve answers?"

There was an uncomfortable silence while Jess shifted in her seat. Finally, Sam answered for her.

"I had no idea she was a hunter until tonight," he explained to his brother.

"What, you've been living with a hunter and you didn't even know it? Jeez, Sammy, I knew you were rusty, but this is a whole new level of bad."

"I'm not hunting right now," she reminded Dean for the umpteenth time. "Haven't been ever since I got to Stanford."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Why what?"

"Why did you give it up?"

She swallowed the sudden lump that had appeared in her throat. It had been four years; she needed to be able to talk about it.

"My dad died," she explained softly. "He was the person who taught me everything about hunting. He and my stepmom split when I was five. With the lifestyle he lived, marriage just didn't work out. And even though I still stayed with her, he would still come and visit me whenever he could. He'd take me out on trips and teach me everything. When he died… It just reminded me of everything my stepmom had said about hunting. That it's dangerous and there's no future in it and a million other problems. And Dad died in a car accident of all things. Not even going down fighting like he would have wanted…"

"Hey, Jess." A large, comforting hand settled on her shoulder, and Jess recognized it as her boyfriend's.

Wiping absently at the tears on her cheeks, she continued. "Anyway, I needed to get away from all of it, so I dropped out of the game completely when I came to Stanford." Abandoning her father's quest, in the meantime. If she allowed it to, the guilt still gnawed at her on sleepless nights. After all, she had just as much reason to take up his vendetta as he did. Although it never felt as real to her as it must have to him.

"So, when are you going to ask the big question, Dean?" she asked tiredly

"Huh?"

"Well, every hunter has a story of how they got in the game," Jess told him. "I'm assuming you want to know what my dad and mine's is."

Dean was quiet for a second, eyes tracking the road carefully. "Yeah, everyone's got a story," he replied finally. "And everyone's story is a shit-filled package of grief. Going through what you did with your dad was bad enough. I'm not gonna make you rehash any other crap you've gone through."

"Oh. Thank you," she spoke awkwardly. That response has surprised her. Up until then, she had thought Dean to be a loyal son, a good brother, an experienced hunter, but an otherwise shallow man with no personality beyond women, cars, and guns. And probably booze. But his comment reminded her that every hunter did have a past, and his was likely to be just as painful and scarring as her own.

Sam never talked much about his family. They only clue was an old framed photo from when Sam was a baby. As much as she had studied that picture for clues, she had never been able to discern much from it. And to have another member of that picture appear in live action served to remind Jess that although she knew that Sam was a hunter, she was still far from understanding everything about him.

"I have a question," Sam spoke up, filling the silence.

Jess pulled herself out of her revere to toss a smile in his direction.

"Shoot."

"Okay, I understand how I never found the salt lines in the apartment. We're both good enough at hiding them that I wouldn't have seen yours unless I tore up the place looking for them. But no one who's hunted in the past would go without having something hidden in their home to protect them in case something got through."

"You mean weapons?" Jess clarified.

"Yeah." Sam turned to Dean. "No matter what you say, dude, there's no way Jess could have hidden that in the apartment without me finding it."

"I didn't," Jess admitted.

"Really?" Dean raised an eyebrow in her direction.

"Well, I was planning on it, but then I found the stuff that you had already, Sam, and I thought that it wouldn't be worth the bother when I could just borrow yours."

Sam let out a bark of laughter and Dean turned his quizzical brow towards his younger brother.

"Jess is the master moocher," he explained. "I just never expected it to extend to weaponry."

Dean nodded. "Okay, I got another question."

"What if I want to ask some?" Jess interrupted.

"Not in the deal, sweetheart."

"Stop calling me that," she snapped, gritting her teeth together. "And I decided to change the rules of the deal. It's not fair that you get to find out everything about me, and I have to go on a hunt with you and know nothing about you."

"You know Sam," Dean pointed out.

"Not this part of him," Jess corrected softly.

Sam twisted around fully and gave her one of those mournful looks he was so skilled at. "Jess, I-"

"No, wait," Dean interrupted. "I'm setting some ground rules right now. My car is not the place for impromptu couple's therapy. You have your issues and you're not sure if you can trust each other and blah blah blah. You work out your shit outside of this car. Preferably in a place where I can't see or hear you. Got it?"

Jess glanced over at Sam, who was rolling his eyes but otherwise agreeable. Apparently, this was something Dean was allowed to do. And really, it probably was a better idea to keep her dirty laundry inside her bag while they were all on the road together.

"Fine," she agreed shortly. "But I still get to ask you questions, Dean. I'll even make a nice little deal for you. You ask one then I'll ask one."

"You think I'm going to agree to 50/50? I get two, then you get one. I know you're way more curious about me than I am about you."

"How is that fair?" Jess protested. "What if we pick a topic and then-"

"God, this is starting to sound like a car game," Dean groaned. "I hate car games. Sam, is this a car game?"

"If it's making you uncomfortable, Dean, Jess and I can always go back to talking about our relationship."

"Shoot me. Okay, fine, Jessica. You get _one_ question for now."

Jess weighed her options carefully before deciding to play it a little safe. If she asked him something relatively impersonal to start out with, he was more likely to let her continue asking.

"Ghosts or werewolves?" she asked him.

"What about 'em?" Dean shot back quickly.

"Which would you prefer to hunt?"

Dean snorted. "Is there any contest? Werewolves are badass."

"Yeah, I guess," Jess shrugged.

"What, you'd rather do the ghost?" Dean had been the brother to ask the question, but it was Sam who was watching her carefully as she drew breath to answer.

"With a ghost, there's always a story," she explained. "Something to connect you to the person they once were. Werewolves are just violent, and bloody. And occasionally depressing."

"With werewolves, you don't have to dig up a corpse," Dean argued.

Jess shrugged. "It's not the most pleasant, but there's always something gross, no matter the creature."

"I guess," Dean replied, conceding to her point reluctantly. "Okay, my turn now."

Jess pressed her lips together to refrain from telling him that he sounded very much like he was playing a car game at the moment.

"Guns or knives?" Dean asked her.

"Knives," she replied without hesitation.

"Really?" Dean had the same note of scepticism in his voice as when they were talking about the werewolves.

"Yes, really. Knives are quieter, safer in close quarters, and more versatile. Plus, they're more elegant."

Dean snorted at the elegant line, like she suspected he would.

"Hey! I'm a girl, Dean, I'm allowed to be elegant."

"Whatever," he grumbled. "But what's a knife gonna do against the Caspers that you like so much?"

"If it's made of iron, it's pretty effective. And I never said that I didn't like guns. I'm just saying that if I had to choose only one weapon to use the rest of my life, I would have to go with a knife."

"And I still don't buy it," Dean argued with interest. "Say you're on the other end of the room with the thing. Who wants to get closer than they have to?"

"Close isn't a problem for me," she shrugged. "I don't mind getting dirty. It's when you have to worry about misfires and ricochets that you get real problems. My dad got clipped in the leg one time from a bouncing bullet. And I'll have you know that on that particular hunt, it was my knife that finally saved the day. I managed to sneak behind and stab the jinn before it got to my dad."

"You've fought jinn before? Where did you-"

"As much as I'd love to listen to more of my girlfriend proving my brother wrong, I'd like to try to get some sleep so I'm not dead to the world tomorrow," Sam interrupted.

Dean glanced over to Sam with a cocky smirk. "I told you college's made you soft, Sam. You can't even last one night in the car anymore."

"Whatever, dude," Sam brushed off. "Just don't turn the music up too loud and try not to get us killed. Wake me up when we get to Jericho."

Sam settled down in his seat as far as he could and closed his eyes, wrapping his large arms around himself.

Even with the car motor grumbling and the stereo playing some band very quietly, thick silence filled the car. Jess rested her head against the window, pulling her sweater tight around her. There were too many thoughts crammed in her head, and she knew that Sam must be going through the same thing. Lame excuses aside, he couldn't really want to sleep. And she hadn't missed the fact that he interrupted her halfway through a fairly violent hunting story.

Like Dean said, they had shit to work out. And although there was nothing she wanted more than to rip open that box and tear through the contents, she recognized the wisdom in Dean's ruling. It was best to wait to air it out until they were on their own and didn't have an audience.

Because road trips held all sorts of opportunity for quiet chats away from your fellow travel mates. Yeah, right. Jess grimaced. It could be a very long trip.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks to all the people who put me on their Story Alert list, and to my reviewers! I'm glad to hear you are enjoying the story. Let me know what you like and dislike. I haven't quite decided what direction the story will ultimately go, so let me know if you have any strong opinions to weigh in with.

CHAPTER THREE

They drove through the rest of the night, and Jess slept in short spurts with her head bouncing uncomfortably against the window of the car. Sam seemed to be pretty conked out as far as she could tell, which she was grateful for. He hadn't been sleeping well lately. On more than one occasion in the last week, she had woken late at night to find him sitting in front of a muted TV in their living room, claiming insomnia. He hadn't wanted to talk about it beyond that, but it still worried her.

By the time they stopped at a gas station, the sun had broken the horizon and Jess was feeling sore and cranky from her interrupted night. As Dean fuelled up the car, Jess stepped out to take a walk around and stretch out her kinks. Sam had awoken and was pawing through a cardboard box that contained a collection of cassette tapes.

"Seriously?" Jess asked, leaning against the car to take a look at Dean's music collection. "Cassette tapes?"

"Dean's music taste is a little… dated," Sam explained.

"You mean classic," Dean corrected, swaggering towards the car with a bag of chips and candy in his hands. "Anyone up for breakfast?" He made a move to toss the chips in Sam's direction.

Jess scrunched up her nose. "You're kidding me. I'm not eating that for breakfast."

Dean frowned. "You think I want to take the time to stop anywhere else?"

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," she answered pertly. "Besides, what's twenty minutes give or take? We'll be able to work better if we're well fed."

In the end, her win had more to do with several vivid descriptions of bacon and eggs rather than her sense of logic; but she still held her head high as they walked into the small roadside diner.

Sam scooted in next to her as they sat at their booth, and she wriggled closer, relishing the feel of his warmth thigh against hers.

"This is going to be quick," Dean muttered to them as their waitress filled coffee cups and passed out menus. "Get some food and then back on the road." He grabbed his cup almost before the waitress has finished filling it and took a huge gulp.

Jess took her time with her own cup. She opened two small containers of cream delicately and poured one full one and another half into her mug. Then, she passed the half-empty container to Sam for him to use. It had been a silly ritual born from their first sort-of date that had continued every time they got coffee together.

Dean watched the performance with a smirk. "Really, Sam? What else do you two share? Matching bra and panty sets?"

"Laugh all you want, Dean. We both know that's not the reason why I've seen one of those sets a lot more recently than you have. And on a real girl, too, not the TV."

Woman's Studies be damned, Jess really wanted to give her boyfriend a win right now. So instead of smacking him and vowing to cut him off from future viewing for the next millennium, she grinned and gifted him with a healthy kiss until Dean groaned loud enough to stop them.

"I'm about to eat," he reminded the two of them. "And the last thing I want right now is a graphic visual of my little brother sucking face."

"Turnabout's fair play, Dean," Sam replied mildly. Then, he turned to give their returning waitress a brilliant smile. "Hi, I'll have the blueberry pancakes, side of sausage."

"Oatmeal. And a fruit salad."

"Breakfast platter. Whole wheat toast, eggs Sunny Side up, extra bacon."

Orders dispatched, Jess leaned back in her seat and took a delicate sip of coffee. "So what do you have on the case so far? Sam didn't give me a lot of details last night."

Dean pulled a file folder out of his jacket and pushed it towards her. "String of disappearances over the last twenty years. Same stretch of highway."

"Have you looked into the history of the road at all?"

Dean snorted. "I've got a hell of a lot more experience than you, sweetheart, so don't ask me stupid questions. There's nothing on the road based off an online search. We'll have to check the local archives when we get to Jericho."

"What else do you want to do? Talk to witnesses or family members at all?"

"Usually," Dean nodded. "I'm thinking of going with Marshals on this one."

"Really?" Jess crinkled her nose. "FBI usually buys you more of a right to ask weird questions."

Dean scowled. "Sure," he agreed. "But I don't have my suit with me, and I'm guessing you or Sammy don't have anything appropriate packed either."

"I guess," she grumbled.

Dean stood, straightening his coat. "You look over the file. I'll be back."

Jess fingered the pages as he swaggered towards the bathrooms, and then she glanced over at Sam.

"Are you okay? You've been kind of quiet."

Sam shook his head. "I'm just not used to seeing you like this. Talking about impersonating the FBI to interview witnesses? That's something that belongs to Dean and my Dad. Not you."

"It's what any good hunter would do, Sam," Jess reminded him gently. "I'm just trying to do a good job so we can find your dad."

Sam still shook his head. "How did I completely miss this side of you?" he wondered. "You suspected that I had a hunting background for a while now. So, what, I was just clueless?"

"Not exactly clueless," Jess began cautiously. "Just… I dunno, Sam, sometimes it seemed like you didn't really _see_ me."

"What do you mean?" he asked coolly.

"Oh, nothing bad, Sam, honest. It's just that sometimes I think you kind of had this perfect image of me in your head that you used. And sometimes you ignored what was in front of you in favour of that picture. Which is sort of flattering, in a way," she rushed to explain. "Who doesn't want her boyfriend to think she's a perfect lady even if she does leave dirty socks everywhere and insist on iron bolts for the front door?"

"So, you mean that I didn't pay attention to you? That I have some fake image of you in my head that was completely wrong?"

"No, not completely wrong! Just… certain aspects of my life have never really come up until now and…" She was backpedalling desperately at this point and had no clear idea of how she was going to get out.

"Well, clearly, those 'certain aspects' include pretending to be the FBI. Got any fake credit cards in your wallet as well?"

"Sam," she spoke patiently. "My dad was a hunter. He taught me stuff. I went on hunts with him. But that whole lifestyle… It's never been me. I don't know if it ever _could_ be me. And, okay, maybe I've been a little more bold about the whole thing than I've been in the past. But I just want to make sure you and Dean know that I can carry my own weight. I'm here to help, not drag you guys down."

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again as Dean returned to the table.

"Any theories yet?" he asked Jess.

"No, not yet," she apologized.

"Dude, you were only gone for, like, two minutes. Give her a break."

"Whatever," Dean shrugged. "I just want to get on this, you know?"

"Well, based off what little I know, I'd say we're looking for a ghost," Jess offered.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, frowning a little.

Their food arrived, and the next couple minutes were spent shuffling plates and organizing cutlery. Jess was already halfway through her oatmeal before Sam voiced what Dean was clearly thinking and what Jess had wondered.

"Dad's too experienced of a hunter to run into trouble on a simple ghost case."

Jess squeezed his hand. "You think it's something more?"

"I dunno," Sam shrugged.

"Well, we'll just have to be extra careful. Stick close together and watch each other's backs."

The two brothers nodded vaguely in response, and Jess took to opportunity to snag a piece of Dean's bacon.

"Hey!" His fork defended his plate with wendigo-fast reflexes. "You want bacon, you order your own."

"I just want one piece," she pouted, giving him a double helping of the look that won her many a free drink in the past.

"Nice try," Dean snorted. "But your Sammy's girl, and that puts you firmly in the no-flirt zone. You ever want to change that, just give me a call."

Sam snorted. "I think that qualifies as flirting, Dean."

Jess was still pouting over her lack of bacon, and Sam slid his plate of sausage in her direction. She smiled, and popped a small piece in her mouth.

"Are you serious?" Dean scoffed. "You're so whipped, Sam."

"And yet," Jess paused, making sure she had swallowed all of her sausage, "he's the only one who's gonna be viewing my aforementioned matching bra and panty set." She smiled cheekily across to him and he rolled his eyes.

Then, he took a big bite of bacon.

They had been back on the road for about an hour when Sam, prompted by a few grunts and a nudge from Dean, made calls first to the city hospital and then to the morgue. Jess watched in fascination as he smoothly carried on a conversation as Bud Williams, constable for Union City, who was unofficially looking for a missing person. Sure, she had always recognized that Sam wasn't exactly an open book with his friends at Stanford, but she had never realized exactly how skilled he was at guiding a conversation, gently steering it in the direction he wanted to go. Sam got the information he needed quickly, and then ended the conversation before anyone could get too suspicious.

"No one matching his description," he announced quietly, closing his phone. "Which is something, I guess."

Dean gave a small nod, which Sam returned. Jess felt like she needed an interpreter to understand them. Or maybe subtitles. Any amount of tension that had existed between the two brothers last night was very quickly fading away into this effortless nonverbal communication that both intrigued her more than the possibility of a ghost hunt.

"Check it out," Dean pointed. They were coming up to a bridge, which had several police car parked nearby, and was crawling with members of the Sherriff's Department. Up ahead on the actual bridge, Jess could make out a civilian car marked out with crime scene tape.

Dean pulled the car over on the side of the road, and grabbed a cigar box out of his multipurpose glove box. He rifled through it, and Jess caught flashes of several official-looking identifications before he pulled out a leather-looking bifold.

"Marshals?" Jess asked.

"Yep," Dean replied shortly, swinging the car door open and climbing out.

Shaking his head in a way that said 'I disapprove of this, but I'm not surprised', Sam exited out his own side. At least Jess could still read some of Sam's silent communication.

She followed the boys to the bridge, all three of them silent as one of the officers was finishing up a phone call.

"No, Amy, we haven't found anything yet. You sound exhausted, sweetie, why don't you take a break? I'm sure you've got lots of posters up already, and the best thing you can do right now is take care of yourself. Yeah, alright. Love you." He pocketed his phone, and then turned to the eavesdropping trio. "Can I help you?"

"Here on official business," Dean replied, flashing his badge. "You had another one just like this last month didn't you?" he started circling the car, and the two officers close by watched him carefully.

The man who hadn't been taking up police time with personal phone calls narrowed his eyes slightly. "You three are a little young for Marshals, aren't you?"

Dean brushed the comment off with a cocky grin and a short laugh. "Thanks, that's awfully kind of you."

Jess stifled a snort. Apparently, Dean was just as skilled at misdirection as Sam. Although that should be no real surprise. They had both had the same teacher. Not for the first time, Jess wondered what sort of man John Winchester was.

Dean was fully committing to his role as federal officer. He strode around the crime scene with confidence, hands clasped behind his back. Sam trailed behind slightly, and Jess remained anchored at her spot on the bridge, content to watch the teamwork between the brothers.

"You did have another just like this, correct?"

"Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that."

Jess shivered at the thought. John Winchester had a list of about ten names. And there might have been even more that didn't reach the attention of the police.

"So this victim…" Sam began

Jess smiled. Trust Sam to bring it back to the person who was hurt.

"You knew him," he guessed.

The deputy nodded. "Town like this, everybody knows everybody."

"There any connection between the victims besides that they're all men?" Dean called from behind the car.

"No," the deputy replied quickly, and seemed vaguely irritated.

"So what's the theory?" Sam asked, stepping closer to the car.

"We don't know," the deputy replied shortly. "Serial murder? Kidnapping ring? That's something you and your FBI pals can discuss."

"Well, that's exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you g-" Dean was cut off abruptly by his brother's foot stomping on top of his own.

"Thank you for your time," Sam replied stiffly. "Gentlemen." He nodded to the two officers, and he and Dean began to walk away.

Jess hung back for a moment, turning to the deputy. "What did you mean by FBI pals?"

"We just finished briefing a couple of them on the whole situation. Tell me, how am I supposed to solve this thing when I have to spend all my time telling federal agents the exact same thing over and over again."

"Sorry," Jess shrugged. "You know how bureaucracy works."

She jogged across the bridge to catch up with Sam and Dean. As she came closer, she heard the tail end of their conversation.

"We've got to get to the bottom of this thing _ourselves_," Dean was telling Sam, clearly convinced of the uselessness of the local law enforcement.

"But maybe a little more carefully than we had planned," Jess interjected. "The FBI's already in town. It could give us trouble."

"Not as much trouble as it would be if we decided to pretend _we_ were FBI," Dean smirked at her.

"Whatever," she brushed off. "I don't know about you, but I think our next move is pretty clear. We-"

"Have to talk to Amy," Sam and Dean cut her off in unison.

"Right," she blinked. "That wasn't creepy at all. Let's head into town and see if we can find her. Small town like this, it shouldn't be too hard."

As they all headed back to the car, Jess put herself deliberately in the rear so she could watch the brothers. God, even their steps were starting to synchronize. Which was actually kind of adorable.

Like she'd ever tell them that.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks to all the people who reviewed and/or added me to their alerts. I am continuing with my plan to post roughly every week. I think I have about three more parts to go in this story, but we'll see what happens. Hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER FOUR

Jess dunked her spoon into her teacup and tried to squish a little more flavour out of her teabag. So far, it tasted like dishwater. She reached for another packet of sugar, and dumped it in. After stirring thoroughly, she took an experimental sip. Nope, still dishwater. Giving up, she turned all of her attention to the conversation at the table. It had been easy enough to find Amy, and even easier to convince her to sit down with Troy's "uncles" and answer questions. Jess had forgotten how easy it was to manipulate small-town innocence.

"I was on the phone with Troy," Amy was saying, "he was driving home. He said he would call me right back. And, uh… He never did."

"He didn't say anything strange?" Sam asked. "Or out of the ordinary?"

"No, nothing I can remember."

Jess tilted her head, studying Amy carefully. The girl was holding up surprisingly well, considering.

"How long have the two of you been together?" Jess asked.

Amy reached up to fiddle with the pentagram pendant she wore around her neck. "A year," she spoke quietly, looking away from Jess and out the window.

"You're happy?" Jess pressed.

"Yeah, of course," Amy shrugged. "Troy is… a really great boyfriend."

The pause didn't go unnoticed by Jess, but Amy seemed unwilling to talk about it any further. Her friend squeezed her hand, and Amy continued to look resolutely out the window.

"I like your necklace," Sam finally spoke, easing the eerie silence.

"Thanks," Amy replied. "Troy gave it to me." Her words were strangely blank. "Mostly to scare my parents. With all that devil stuff?"

Knowing smiles flickered across both Sam and Dean's faces. "Actually, it means just the opposite," Sam informed the girls. "A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing."

"Okay," Dean interrupted. "Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries." Jess bit back a smile at how well the brothers were working together. Sam, gently suggesting the possibility of supernatural forces, and Dean keeping the conversation grounded so the girls didn't get too freaked out. "Here's the deal, ladies," Dean continued. "The way Troy disappeared. Something's not right. So if you're heard anything…"

The girls looked at each other hesitantly.

"What is it?" Dean demanded.

"Well, it's just…" Amy's goth friend trailed off. "I mean with all these guys going missing… Well, people talk."

"What do they talk about?" The question was asked in unison by Sam and Dean, coupled by an identical lean forward and quizzical eyebrow tilt. Jess had to take a long sip of her disgusting tea to cover up her grin.

The girl hesitated for a moment. "It's kind of this local legend," she explained. "This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial. Like, decades ago."

Jess shared a knowing glance with the boys.

"Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up… Well, they disappear forever."

Jackpot, Jess thought. So-called local legends often had at least a scrap of truth to them, and the supposed murder sight matched the location of all the real-life disappearances.

She looked back over at Amy again. The girl seemed distracted. Not by the story, but by something else…

Acting on impulse, Jess stood up from her seat. "I hate to bother you, Amy," she spoke apologetically, "but I really could use a bathroom break. Come with me?"

Amy looked a little startled, but agreeably stood up and led Jess to the back of the diner where the bathrooms were located. She felt Dean and Sam's eyes on her the whole time, and she buried a smirk. They weren't the only ones who could get a witness to share something.

Once they were inside, Jess fussed with her hair in front of the mirror, not entirely faking her disgruntled look. A night sleeping in a car had not been kind to it.

"How does it look?" she asked Amy. "I can't get it to behave today for some reason."

Amy hesitated, and then pulled a bobby pin out of her pocket.

"Probably my only option at this point," Jess agreed ruefully. "God, I can't tell you how nice it is to be with a girl who _has_ a bobby pin in her pocket. I've been on the road with…" she hesitated before giving Sam the ridiculous fake name Dean had bestowed on him, "Julius and his brother for weeks now, and I've been starved for conversation that doesn't revolve around cars and rock bands."

Amy cracked a smile. "I know what you mean. I have brothers. I know all too well how the male mind works."

Jess paused, giving Amy a look of consideration. "Can I ask you something, Amy? I don't want to weird you out or anything, but none of my girlfriends seem to really get what's going on, and I can't really talk about it on the phone, anyway."

Amy leaned forward, natural instinct for gossip lighting up in her eyes. "Yeah, what is it?"

"Well, I love Julius, don't get me wrong. But sometimes I wonder if everything's… okay with us, you know? Like if he's telling the truth about everything."

"You mean if he's cheating on you?"

Jess straightened her face, but inwardly she gave herself a fist-pump and pat on the back for having the right instincts. The fact that Amy jumped to the conclusion of cheating said a lot about her relationship with Troy.

"Well, I don't know," Jess continued, playing the part of desperate girlfriend. "He calls me to cancel plans sometimes, or makes excuses for not meeting up with me. And once he said he had to work late, but I know he wasn't at work."

Amy appeared horrifically spellbound, and Jess felt a flash of guilt for putting the girl through this, but it was important to the case. Besides, Amy didn't seem like the crazy jealous type. If she suspected that Troy was cheating on her, her instincts were probably correct.

"But I don't want to confront him if I'm not sure," Jess kept talking. "I know you've only met him like twenty minutes ago, but sometimes an outside opinion is what you need, you know?"

"I don't know," Amy shrugged. "But if you think something, chances are you're right. And it's better to confront him and be honest about what you think before it's too late…" she trailed off, eyes distant.

Jess' heart went out to the girl. Having Amy's memory of her boyfriend permanently tainted by the suspicion of cheating was so unfair.

"Thanks," she said to Amy, reaching to give her a hug. "You've been a huge help." And although the embrace between the two of them was a lie, Jess hoped that Amy would still receive some comfort from it.

She caught up with Sam and Dean outside the diner.

"Troy was cheating on Amy," she announced as they walked back to the car.

"What? She told you that?" Sam asked, surprised.

"Not so much in words," Jess shrugged. "But I know what she was thinking. We need to talk to families of the other people and see if it's a pattern."

"How did you know what she was thinking?" Dean demanded, yanking open the car door.

"Female intuition?" she shrugged.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, right. I'm not buying it, sweetheart. You may _think_ that's what was happening, but we _know_ that there's the story of the murdered woman. We're going after that angle first."

"But—" Jess sputtered. "Sam, c'mon, don't you believe me?"

"Jess, of course I believe you," Sam told her, staring at his shoes. "But I think our time is better spent in the library researching this murder story. You understand, right?"

Jess glanced between the two brothers, one adjusting the volume on the car stereo and the other scuffing his sneakers on the pavement. There was no way she was going to win this one.

"Fine," she grumbled, climbing into the backseat of the car. "We'll go to the library."

Sitting at a table, almost buried in piles of newspaper, Jess still fumed. Fine. Whatever. If Sam and Dean were determined to ignore her ideas, then she would play along. After all, who didn't want to spend the day in a stuffy library? And who cared if Sam waited until _after _the Rock Paper Scissors match to tell her that Dean _always_ chose scissors? Because she_ loved_ being stuck with the crummy job of sifting through all the old newspapers while Sam and Dean played on the computer.

Her eyes were starting to ache. Unlike Sam, she was not cut out for research sessions that stretched for hours at the library. She was about to take a break when she felt a familiar looming shadow over her and a paper coffee cup was plunked on the table beside the papers.

"The diner tea didn't look so great, so I got some tea bags at the grocery store before I picked up coffee for me and Dean."

"I love you," Jess breathed, inhaling the gentle aroma. She had come to depend on her regular tea breaks as much as the average college student depended on morning coffee.

"Was that directed at me or the tea?"

Jess shrugged. "Take it however you like."

Sam had settled into the chair beside her and flipped through a couple pages of newspaper. "Sorry I didn't pay more attention to your cheating idea with Amy."

Jess bristled. "It's not an idea, I know it's true. An unresolved affair would be a good reason for me to stick around after I've died. That could be the key to this ghost. If we interviewed the families of the other people who've gone missing, we could find our connection."

"Okay," Sam agreed, "but if even if we find that connection, that doesn't get us any closer to finding out who this woman is. We need to know her history in order to stop her."

Jess opened her mouth with a ready retort before realizing the truth in Sam's words. Damn him for being right.

Sam's large hand rubbed across her shoulder blades and she leaned against him, taking comfort in his warm arms and the feel of his chin resting on her head.

"You haven't done a lot of hunting before, have you?" Sam asked with curiosity. Jess could feel the rumble of his chest as he spoke and she shifted closer. This was her safe space where she could talk about anything and not be harmed.

"No," she replied. "My dad was a hunter for pretty much my whole life. My mom died while I was young, and he was obsessed with catching whatever had killed her. He remarried, but it only lasted a few years before my stepmom had had enough. Dad left to go hunting, and I grew up with my stepmom and half-brother. You've met them; they're my family, regardless of blood relation.

"Dad would blow into town like a travelling circus with stories of monsters and demons and ghosts. He taught me about the supernatural, took me on a few hunts, taught me to shoot straight and how to lie to people. That's about it. I had joined with him roughly part time in my senior year of high school, but then he died. And when I thought about what he left behind, two kids who hardly saw him and a divorced wife, I realized that I didn't want anything to do with hunting. I wanted a normal life with college and a boyfriend. And later, a husband and kids." She paused, considering her words. "I'm sorry if you thought I was hiding the hunting part of me from you, but really, I just needed to get _away _from all of that. And sure, I still take precautions. I'd be an idiot not to. But that doesn't mean I'm a _hunter_. Not really."

"You're a hunter on this trip," Sam pointed out.

"Well, that's because it's your dad, Sam. I'm going to help you find him in any way that I can."

"I love you," he whispered softly in her ear.

"But, Sam," she pulled away from him, needed to see his face for this. "After we've found him, and we know that he's okay… I'm going back to Stanford. I can't be a hunter, I know that. I want that normal life." She chewed her lip waiting for a response.

"Jess." Sam caught her hand. "I want that normal life, too."

"You and Dean are pretty close," she said doubtfully. Huge understatement. They hadn't seen each other in years, and they could predict each other's every move.

Sam was shaking his head, though. "Dean and I grew up on the road, in that car that's parked out front. What kind of life is that? When I told my dad I got a full ride to Stanford, he went ballistic. Told me that if I left, I should never come back. I took him for his word."

"He's your dad, I know he loves you." Jess wasn't sure what made her so certain. She just knew.

"Maybe," Sam shrugged, unmoved. "But he's never going to accept what I want to do. And, yeah, Dean and I are close, but that doesn't mean we both have to be hunters. I want the same things you do. College. And—"

"And a boyfriend?" she questioned, grin on her face.

"And you," Sam corrected with a smile. "So, let's finish the case, find my dad, and then head back to our life together in Stanford."

"Sounds like the perfect plan."

The scraping of a chair pulled them out of their little bubble as Dean plunked himself beside them.

"Check it out." He threw a few pages on the table. Jess quickly read the headline _Suicide on Centennial._ "1981," Dean summarized. "Constance Welch jumps off the bridge after finding her two kids drowned in the tub. Survived by husband Joseph Welch. And take a look at that bridge." Dean's calloused finger jabbed at a picture on the page.

Jess stared for a second, and then gasped as the pieces fell into place. "That's the same bridge Troy's car was found on."

"Yep." Dean grabbed the article and stuffed it into his jacket. "C'mon, lovebirds, we've got work to do."

A/N: In the original pilot, I don't think Amy knew that Troy was cheating on her, or, at the very least, extremely willing to cheat. But I tweaked a couple things here. I'm keeping it very close to the actual episode, but I may do a couple minor changes as the story progresses.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you for the all of the alerts, story favourites, and continual reviews, especially all the kind comments about Jess' characterization. I've had a lot of fun writing her so far, so it's good to know that she is being enjoyed.

CHAPTER FIVE

"It's a Woman in White," Jess announced from the backseat of the car. They were well on their way to check out Sylvania Bridge, the moon bright enough to see by despite it being late at night.

Dean glanced back at her briefly before returning his eyes to the road. "You think so?"

"Yeah, it fits. Joseph Welch cheated on Constance, she goes into a jealous rage, kills her kids. Then, overburdened with guilt, she jumps the bridge."

They had pulled up in front of the bridge in question, and Jess cautiously stepped out of the car.

"Makes sense," Dean agreed. "Still have to do the usual, though. Find where she's buried and burn the corpse."

"And make sure it's her, first of all," Jess added.

The three of them walked towards the bridge in silence, ducking under the yellow tape that still marked off where Troy's car was found. Jess kept a hand on the iron knife she had slipped up her sleeve. There was no way she was going on that bridge unarmed.

"Do you think Dad was here?" Sam asked his brother softly as they walked across the bridge, peering over the side to the river below. Nothing seemed unordinary about the structure so far.

"Well, he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him," Dean shrugged.

"Okay, so now what?" Sam asked.

"We keep digging 'til we find him. Might take a while."

"Dean…" Sam snuck a glance at Jess, "I've told you, I've got to be back by—"

"Monday," Dean answered for him. "Right. The interview."

"Yeah," Sam nodded. Jess took a step forward, supporting Sam as much as she could.

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Dean asked. "And you too, Jess? You're both going to just quit hunting and go back to your nice, normal life? Finish law school and what? Get married and have a bunch of kids?"

"Maybe," Sam hedged.

Jess grabbed onto Sam's hand. "Look, we both know what we want, Dean," she told him. "I know for sure that hunting isn't the life for me."

Dean snorted. "You two can pretend all you want, but sooner or later you're gonna have to face up to what you really are."

"And what's that?" Sam demanded.

"One of use," Dean shrugged. "Now, I don't pretend to know a lot about you, Jess, but Sam I know for sure. You're a hunter, Sam. Nothing's going to change that." He turned to walk away, but Sam came after him.

"No. I'm not like you; this is not going to be my life. Jess and I are going back to Stanford."

Jess was torn between admiration for Sam going after what he wanted and embarrassment for witnessing this very private family moment.

"We have a responsibility," Dean told Sam, a dangerous tone creeping up in his voice.

"To Dad?" Sam questioned. "And his crusade? Spending our whole lives chasing after the thing that killed Mom? If it weren't for pictures, Dean, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. I was six months old when she died."

A cold prickle crept up her spine, and she was no longer able to pay attention to the argument playing out in front of her. She had known that Sam's mother had died when he was young. And the fact that it was at the hands of a supernatural entity made sense. But was it six months exactly? The story sounded eerily familiar, and she was desperate to find out more information.

But then, she saw a figure, clothed in white, standing on the railing of the opposite side of the bridge. She gazed at Jess with such a mournful expression; the pieces of her white dress blowing in the breeze created a perfect metaphor for the state of her soul.

"Sam. Dean."

They looked over to where Jess pointed and their jaws dropped simultaneously.

The three of them watched, spellbound, as the woman stepped off the bridge and plunged down into the river. Like a shot had just been fired, Sam and Dean raced over to where the woman had gone over the edge.

Jess hung back, knowing that Constance wouldn't be there anymore. Instead, she pulled out the iron knife and glanced warily around, ready for the ghost's next appearance.

"Were did you get that?" Dean demanded, catching sight of the weapon.

"The trunk of your car," Jess shrugged. "I thought it would be useful."

"You went through the trunk of the Impala?" Dean growled. "How did you—"

He was interrupted by the sound of the car in mention being started. The headlights flooded the bridge, and Jess couldn't help squinting.

"Dean, who's driving your car?" Sam asked, confused.

Wordlessly, Dean reached into his pocket to pull out the keys. As if in answer, the car roared loudly.

And then it was barrelling towards them.

Jess had never been much of a car person, but she had seen enough of Dean's behaviour towards this car to know that he was unnaturally attached to the thing, treating it as if it was Apollo's own chariot. And now the well-loved beast was charging towards them, showing off all the capabilities Dean had so lovingly preserved in the machine.

There was no way they would be able to outrun it, Jess realized. Especially on a bridge where their escape options were limited. Turning sharply, she stopped, letting Sam and Dean run ahead of her.

"Hey!" she shouted, brandishing her small knife, which now felt ridiculously inadequate. "Back off!"

The car swerved sharply, barely missing her. She ducked instinctively, wrapping her arms around her head to protect her most vulnerable areas.

And then the car stopped suddenly. Lifting her head cautiously, Jess saw it sitting silently beside her, profile fading in the dark. She took deep gulps of night air, the cool shock to her lungs helping to calm her nerves.

"Sam?" she called cautiously, swivelling around to try to find him.

"Jess!" he returned, climbing up over the railing of the bridge. Jess guessed that he swung over rather than risk getting hit by the car. "What were you thinking stopping in the path of a rampaging car? It could've killed you!"

"She's a Woman in White," Jess explained, stepping towards Sam on shaking legs. "She's going to target men, especially men who have cheated. She's not going to attack me."

"Until you do something that makes her angry!" Sam snapped. "Like trying to stop her when she's possessing a car." His words were angry, but as soon as they were close enough he grabbed her and pulled her into the hardest hug she had ever received from him. His breath tickled her hair and she felt her pounding heart slow as Sam's arms squeezed out all the adrenaline she had built up. "Just, be more careful next time, okay?" he murmured into her ear.

"Okay," she agreed quietly.

"Dean," Sam suddenly muttered, and he was gone from her instantly, leaving her rocking in place. "Dean!" he called loudly into the night, voice echoing off the steel beams of the bridge.

Jess couldn't see Dean anywhere on the bridge, and she felt a surge of panic rush through her. "Dean!" she shouted, trying to keep the note of hysteria out of her voice.

"What?" came an irritated response, barely audible above the rush of the river.

Jess and Sam peered over the edge of the bridge. She could barely make out a small bedraggled figure, visible against the riverbank only because it was slowly crawling its way up.

Jess could practically _feel_ the reverberations of Sam's joyful relief, and she felt a smile stretch across her own face.

"Are you all right?" Sam shouted down to him.

"I'm super," came the sarcastic response.

Jess felt a zing of happiness at Sam's delighted laughter and she reached out to squeeze his hand. They had all made it out okay.

As much as she felt badly for Dean jumping into the river, she couldn't help her laughter when she got a look at him up close. Every square inch of him was covered in mud. Flecks of the stuff fell off him whenever he took a step.

"Don't laugh at me, princess. At least I know to get the hell away from a ghost when it's charging at me with a car. What kind of idea was it to _yell_ at the ghost to stop? They don't exactly listen to reason." He caressed the side of the car before popping the hood open and investigating the engine.

"The car stopped for her, Dean," Sam told his brother.

"Really?" He took a break from his inspection long enough to raise an eyebrow in her direction.

"She's a Woman in White," Jess explained, shrugging. "She was gunning for you two, not me."

"For now," Dean muttered. "You might have surprised her this time, but she's not going to like you too much the next time we meet her."

"I'll be more careful next time, then."

"How's the car?" Sam asked, changing the topic.

"Whatever she did to, it seems all right now," Dean replied, closing it up. "That Constance chick, what a bitch!" he yelled the last part into the night, as if the ghost was still hanging around listening to them.

"So much for not antagonizing her," Jess rolled her eyes.

"Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure," Sam commented, moving to sit carefully next to Dean on the hood of the car. "So where's the trial go for from here, genius?"

Dean threw up his arms in frustration, and Jess ducked to avoid getting hit by mud flecks.

Sam was silent for a second longer before wrinkling his nose and turning to Dean.

"You smell like a toilet," he informed his brother.

In retrospect, it should have been one of the first places they looked for John Winchester, if they hadn't gotten distracted with the case he had been investigating. There was only one motel in Jericho, so it shouldn't have surprised them when the motel clerk recognized the fake last name on Dean's card as belonging to another guest.

Jess watched, both impressed and surprised, as Sam easily picked the lock to the motel room that his father had rented out for the month.

She followed Sam into the room with the same amount of reverence a church deserved. In her head, she had been unable to call this man anything other than his full name: John Winchester. He existed only in one dated picture of Sam's and in the handful of times Sam mentioned him. This was the man who raised her boyfriend, taught him everything he knew about hunting, and kicked him out for earning a full-ride scholarship to Stanford. Whenever their father was mentioned, the air between Sam and Dean became charged, crackling with repressed emotion and unspoken comments. This motel room would be her biggest clue so far in figuring out the man.

The walls were covered with pictures and diagrams and labels. She stepped over a wide line of salt, glancing at the half-eaten food and open suitcase in the room. Either the man was a slob, or he had left in a hurry. Judging by the meticulous organization of the information on the walls, she guessed the latter.

"Is this normal?" she asked the brothers, approaching one of the walls that contained photographs and descriptions of all of the missing persons.

"Not to this degree," Sam replied. "At least not when I left. Dean?"

"The case stuff is normal, but not usually this much," Dean agreed. He sniffed experimentally at a burger lying on the bedside table. "I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least."

"Salt and cat's eye shells," Sam announced. "He was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in."

Jess walked along the length of her chosen wall, passing a casual eye over the papers John Winchester had taped to the wall. There were the victims laid out in chronological order, connecting lines drawn between some of them. On the next wall, the man had taped up the same article that Dean had found about Constance's suicide, a picture of a woman standing by a road, and, then, a small piece of paper with marker scrawled across it.

"Ha!" Jess remarked in triumph, jabbing the paper. "I told you. A Woman in White. Your dad figured it out, too." Sam joined her at her side, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

Dean scanned the wall of the various victims. "You sly dogs."

"Okay, so, Woman in White," Jess spoke. "We have to find and destroy the corpse."

"She may have another weakness," Sam offered.

"Dad would have found the corpse," Dean shook his head.

"The article doesn't say where she's buried," Jess told the brothers, skimming over it again to make sure. She broke away from Sam and Dean, more interested in exploring the room than in the case they were currently working.

"If I were Dad, I would ask her husband. If he's still alive." Sam tapped the picture of Joseph Welch in the article.

Jess' gaze fell on a battered photograph that was stuck into the frame of a mirror. Surprisingly, it was John Winchester she recognized first, his face having grown more lines and his eyes holding much more sadness than in the picture Sam had in their apartment. And then there were the two boys on either side of the man.

Sam looked no older than seven, and Jess was able to see for the first time why Dean called his brother 'Sammy'. Dean looked delightfully awkward, with teenage growth having begun to set in and hair much too long and wavy to be considered manly. They were all squinting in the sun and sitting on a car that Jess recognized as the one Dean was still driving around.

Sam had mentioned back at the library that he had grown up on the road, had even commented a few times at Stanford how his family moved around a lot when he was growing up. But this picture somehow made it all the more clear to her. That car had essentially been their home; two boys growing up in the backseat as their father chased down a nameless monster that had killed their mother when Sam was just six months old.

Six months _exactly_? The question dug at the back of Jess' skull, demanding an answer. Coincidences were not something you were allowed to believe in as a hunter.

"Okay, I'm gonna take a quick shower," Dean announced suddenly, startling her enough to jump a little. "Sammy, you try and find an address for Joseph Welch. We'll go pay him a visit."

"What, now?" Jess asked dumbly.

"Yeah," Dean shrugged.

"Dean, it's, like, eleven o'clock," she countered. "Closer to midnight by the time we get out to wherever Welch is living. He's not gonna want to talk to anyone, especially people asking him where his dead wife is buried." She glanced over at Sam for support.

"She's got a point, man," Sam shrugged.

"Look, we already paid for a room. Let's get a real night's sleep and take a fresh crack at it in the morning."

Dean hovered, considering. "Okay," he finally agreed, turning around to leave his father's abandoned motel room.

"Hey, Dean," Sam took two quick steps to catch up to his brother. Jess hung back a little, sensing an apology building on Sam's tongue and wanting to give them a moment. "What I said earlier," Sam continued, "about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry—"

Dean's hand came up and cut Sam off. "No chick-flic moments," he told his brother.

Sam huffed a laugh. "All right. Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean replied. He left the room and strolled over to his car, grabbing his duffle from the trunk.

Jess watched in stunned disbelief as Sam followed. They jostled each other and exchanged a few light punches as Sam reached to grab his and Jess' bags out of the car.

That was how they worked things out? The argument that had almost come to blows on the bridge had been solved by half of an apology and an exchange of insults? The Winchester method of nonverbal communication had been raised to a new high.

"Okay," Jess spoke to Sam as she entered their room. The shower was already running and Dean was nowhere in sight. "I understand that you and your brother avoid actually _talking_ as much as possible, but I _am_ a chick, and I need my moments. What just went on between the two of you?"

"I shouldn't have said what I did to Dean," Sam shrugged. "I know what I want to do, but that's no reason to antagonize him."

"So, what, he's going to be okay with you going back to Stanford?" She dug through her bag, searching for something comfortable enough to wear to bed.

"Sure."

"Even if we haven't found your Dad yet?" Jess pressed.

Sam shrugged out of his jacket and laid it over the back of a chair. His shoulders were tense and his movements were slow, just a tad too clumsy to be normal for Sam. The long day had taken it out of both of them.

"Dean knows what I want in life," Sam finally spoke. "He may not understand it, but he's willing to accept it."

"Sam, you hadn't talked to him in two years," Jess told him gently. "How is that accepting?" She had given up on finding something to wear in her own bag, and pulled a soft t-shirt out of Sam's things for her to wear.

"That wasn't all his fault," Sam admitted quietly, sitting on the bed he had claimed for the two of them. "I needed to get away from that whole lifestyle. I wanted a break. We just sort of… stopped talking at the same time."

"And now?" Jess pressed gently, running Sam's shirt through her fingers. "Sam, I can see that you and Dean are close. You're beyond finishing each other's sentences; you just _look_ at each other and you know what the other one's saying.

"I'm not saying I'm going to start ignoring Dean all over again," Sam told her. "That was a mistake, and this trip has made me realize that."

"You missed him," Jess grinned, pulling her own shirt off and replacing it with Sam's. The shower was still running, so Jess figured it was safe to change in the room without Dean walking in on her.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, rolling his eyes a little. "If you want to put it in a girly way like that."

"I do," Jess nodded. "So, what, you're going to be pen pals now? Have a scheduled phone date every week?"

"We're going to talk," Sam corrected. "Not ignore each other like we did before. But, Jess, I'm not going to start road-tripping with him around the country, searching for our Dad."

"If he comes by again? Looking for help?"

Sam paused, not making eye contact with her.

"Sam. You'll help him out if he needs it," she told him. "Of course you will. I'll kick your ass if you don't. And I'll double kick your ass if you don't invite me along to help.

"Okay," Sam smiled. The shower screeched as it turned off, audible even through the closed door. Sam lowered his voice and continued. "But my life will be at Stanford with you, Jess. I'm not like Dad and Dean. They're obsessed with finding what killed my mom. But for me, it's like you with your dad. I don't want that obsession to ruin my life. Yes, I lost my mom. But it was a long time ago. I was so young, I don't even remember it."

Six months old, Jess remembered. And again, the question nagged at her: Six months exactly?

"Sam—"

"God, that's more like it." Dean exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam. He was clad in only a pair of boxers, water still dripping down his chest as he scrubbed his hair with a thin towel.

"Oh put a shirt on." Jess rolled her eyes. Like he didn't know the kind of free show he was giving her.

"What, you don't appreciate the view?" Dean grinned.

"Yeah, sure." Jess grabbed her toiletry bag and headed for the bathroom. "Just let me grab my roll of quarters and I'll toss a couple your way."

She shut the door as she heard Dean wonder to himself. "Only quarters?"

Later that night, Jess lay awake in bed despite how tired she felt. She and Sam were sharing a bed while Dean slumbered nearby. Despite the potential awkwardness of all three of them sharing a room together, this arrangement fit her college-student budget and also made more sense, safety-wise.

Sam muttered something in his sleep, and rolled over. She reached out a sleepy hand to pat him clumsily, and he flinched away, muttering again.

"No… Jess…"

Jess frowned, concerned. Sam was growing continually more agitated and she didn't want him to wake up Dean.

"Hey. Sam," she whispered. "Wake up, you're dreaming."

"Jess…" He threw back the covers and tossed over to his opposite side.

"Sam!" she whispered again, and pinched the skin of his arm.

He stilled immediately and turned towards her, eyes still closed.

"Jess?" He was clearly still asleep, barely aware enough to make complete words.

"Yeah, it's me." She nuzzled in close to him, letting his arms come around her and pull her tight.

"You're okay," he whispered into her hair. "You're safe." And he lapsed into steady breathing that indicated he was completely asleep, nightmare forgotten for now.

And she was okay, Jess decided, taking comfort in the words Sam had meant for his own reassurance. No matter what happened, she would always have Sam to protect her and make sure that she was safe.

And with that thought, she was finally able to drift to sleep.

A/N: Because I can't resist cataloguing all of the minor changes I've made, I have to mention the time jump that really confused me in the pilot episode. Sam and Dean are on Sylvania Bridge at night, but it's day time by the time they reach the motel. It really doesn't make sense to me that they would drive all night just to get to a motel. As you can tell from this chapter, I played with the timing so it makes a little more sense to me, but if anyone would like to share their insight on this, I'm all ears!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks all for the kind reviews and for the continued reads. I think I have just one more chapter to this story, with possibly an epilogue. There have been a few questions about the fate of Jessica at the end of this story, and I have to say that I haven't completely decided how I'm going to end the story yet! I'll have to write and see what feels best. Although, I am easily swayed by strong opinions of readers, so if you want to write me a PM or leave a review with your preference, I'll definitely take it into consideration.

CHAPTER SIX

The next morning, Jess work early, thanks to her finicky internal clock still being used to getting up in time make her morning shift at the coffee shop. She ducked into the shower, completing the job quickly and pulling her hair into a braid, not wanting to deal with the curly mess today.

When she stepped out, Dean was already up and walking around, wearing an old leather jacket that she didn't recognize from yesterday.

"I'm starving," Dean announced. "I'm gonna grab something to eat at that diner down the street. You two want anything?"

Sam grunted. He was slumped over the edge of the bed and had barely woken up. Jess knew from experience that he wouldn't be overly responsive until he had had a shower, or at least a sip of coffee.

"I'll come with you," Jess decided, shoving her feet into shoes and tightening the laces quickly. She planted a kiss on Sam's cheek as she grabbed her jacket. "I'll pick up some coffee and scrambled eggs," she promised.

They had stepped out of the room, and Jess was just starting to look forward to sitting in the front seat of the car, when Dean pivoted abruptly and whipped out his phone.

"Shit," he muttered.

"What?" Jess whispered.

"Recognize those guys from the bridge?" He nodded to his left and Jess risked a small glance over to where she saw the two officers they had talked to yesterday morning. They were currently interviewing the motel clerk who was gesturing at the room Dean had rented for the night.

"Dude," Dean spoke curtly into his phone. "5-0. Take off." He paused while Sam replied. "They kind of already spotted us."

Jess realized it was true. The two officers were heading their way, looking grim.

"Jess will be fine .You'll be a lot more useful out in the open than with us. Go find Dad." Dean snapped the phone closed, and turned to face the two men, plastering a pleasant smile across his face. "Problem, officers?"

"Where's your partner?" the man asked, scanning the faces of Dean and Jess.

Jess tried to arrange her face into the most innocent configuration possible, although she was certain that her inner panic was bleeding through. In all of her hunts with her dad, they had never got caught by the police.

"Partner?" Dean asked. "What partner?"

Jess rolled her eyes. Seriously? Was he _trying_ to lead them right in the direction of Sam?

"He went back to the bridge," Jess blurted out. "Early this morning. Oh, god, please don't arrest us. Please!"

Dean shot a glance in her direction, and she could tell that he was impressed with her lie, although he hid it well from the authorities in front of them.

"Easy," the deputy soothed. "We'll sort this out, sweetheart."

Jess gritted her teeth against the nickname, but refrained from saying anything. If she had to play the part of ditzy blonde to get them out of this, then she would.

"So," the deputy continued, speaking to Dean alone now. "Fake US Marshal. Fake credit cards. You got anything that's real?"

"My boobs."

Jess had seen it flash across his face before it came out, and she would have given anything to stick it right up his nose the moment it did.

"You idiot," she groaned. "You couldn't have held onto that particularly clever comment for now and shared it later? You're always—"

She stopped, realizing that her cover as innocent ditz had been blown.

After that, neither of them stood a chance.

"I can't believe you got us arrested," Jess complained, kicking the table leg from her seat. They had been led into a conference room of sorts, and although neither of them had been officially processed yet, the door locked from the outside, and the staff at the station had all been very careful to keep it locked.

"What do you mean, 'us'?" Dean complained. "You were doing very well for yourself with the dumb blonde act before you had to ruin it by yelling at me."

"Who in their right mind antagonizes a police officer like that?" Jess shot back. "What are you, twelve?"

"He was going to take me in anyway," Dean shrugged.

"But maybe not lock you up! And now we're both stuck in here until I call my mom to give us bail, and trust me, that conversation will not go over well. Meanwhile my boyfriend's out there on his _own_ tracking down this woman who has a history of targeting men and there's nothing I can do to help him!"

"Jessica," Dean stopped her calmly. "It'll be okay. This isn't the first time we've been on the wrong end of an investigation. I know I didn't really help matters when I was talking to that cop. But I know what I'm doing, and more importantly, _Sam_ knows what he's doing."

"He'll be okay?" Jess didn't like how weak that question made her sound, but she couldn't help voicing it regardless.

"More than okay," Dean reassured her. "He'll be the one to bust us out, you just watch. And for the record, I'm poking these guys for a reason, not just for the fun of getting slammed into a police cruiser."

"Really?"

"Yeah, just like you said, only idiots antagonize police officers. I'd rather they think I'm an idiot than the brilliant strategist I actually am."

Jess snorted, her temporary crisis of nerves resolved. Although what he said made some sense, Jess also suspected that Dean really enjoyed prodding at the swelled egos of the men in this station.

"Although, I got to hand it to you," Dean added. "It was a good idea to send them to the bridge to look for Sammy."

The door to the office swung inwards, and the sheriff sauntered in, a large cardboard box balanced on his arm.

"So you want to give us your real name?" he asked dryly.

"I told you," Dean smirked. "It's Nugent. Ted Nugent."

"Uh huh. And you, sweetheart?"

Jess rolled her eyes. But if Dean was determined to be stupid, then she might as well come along for the ride.

"Debbie Harry," she replied.

Dean shot her a surprised look.

"What?" she shrugged.

The sheriff was less than impressed. "I'm not sure you realize just how much trouble you're in here."

"You talking, like, misdemeanour trouble, or, uh, squeal like a pig trouble." Another smart comment escaped from Dean's mouth, and this time Jess caught the grin he sent in her direction.

And she started to understand it more, now. Because it was way easier to face this with a cocky attitude than with a straight face. They were already screwed as far as fraud charges went. She might as well have some fun before Dean pulled out the master plan he claimed to have in his back pocket.

"You've got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall," the sheriff continued. "Along with a whole lot of satanic mumbo-jumbo. You two are officially suspects."

"That makes sense," Dean drawled. "Cause when the first one went missing in '82, I was three. Unless you think Debbie here was old enough to pull it off?"

"A lady never reveals her age, Ted," Jess tossed back to him.

"I know you got partners," their interrogator continued. "One of them's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing."

The sheriff started digging through the box, and Jess fought to maintain her levity. Who was the older guy the sheriff was talking about? Was it John Winchester? Was he in custody, too?

"So tell me,_ Dean_, is this his?" A heavy leather book landed on the table with a loud thunk.

It was all Jess could do to keep from punching the smug look off the man's face. How did he know Dean's real name?

Dean was looking at the book as if the sheriff had presented him with a severed limb.

"I thought that might be your name," the cop continued, walking close to Dean and sitting on the edge of the table. He flipped open the cover of the book, and Jess saw it was like a small binder, packed full of newspaper clippings, photographs, scribbled notes, and various small tokens. "See, I Ieafed through this. What little I could make out, I mean it's… nine kinds of crazy."

Jess saw flashes of pages as the sheriff continued to flip through the book. There were drawings of monsters, carefully documented notes, pictures of Sam and Dean as children, paragraphs written in Latin, and who knows what else. Dean sat stiffly in his chair, not making eye contact with the sheriff, but Jess could tell that he wasn't happy with the idea of a stranger sifting through this precious book. Jess could practically taste the importance of this book, its own little black hole in the room, sucking in the attention of everyone there.

"And I found this, too." The sheriff finally stopped flipping. The book lay open to a page that was otherwise blank except for writing in block letters that spelled out: DEAN 35-111.

It didn't mean anything to Jess, but Dean looked like his father had stepped out of the book itself and shouted the message in his son's ear.

"Now, you're staying right here until you tell me exactly what the hell that means."

The cocky, you've-got-nothing-on-me look had disappeared from Dean's face, leaving a stony glare that unsettled Jess. The sheriff also noticed the change in Dean.

The man grinned darkly. "I'll just let you two ponder on that for a while. _Dean_. Maybe next time we chat, you'll be a little more accommodating." He turned to exit, nearly reaching the door before doubling back and picking up the book from underneath Dean's reaching fingertips. "If you think I'm going to leave this here for the two of you to flip through…" He trailed off, exiting the room with the book tucked under his arm.

Jess waited until he was long gone before she leaned forward in her seat to whisper to Dean.

"What was that book?"

"Dad's journal," Dean replied. "He never went anywhere without it."

Jess hesitated. "Do you think that means he's… here? At the station?"

"No, I don't think so. That page Jerkwad showed us? It was a message to me."

"Telling you what?"

Dean shook his head, tight-lipped. "Not here."

"Yeah, okay." They probably didn't even own surveillance cameras here, but telling Jess the meaning behind the mysterious numbers while they were inside the police station would be inviting risks they didn't need.

"So the journal…" Jess began, not able to withhold her curiosity.

"Yeah?"

"I'm guessing it wasn't the 'Dear Diary' type of journal."

"No," Dean chuckled. "It was more of the 'Monster of the Week' variety. Dad used it to catalogue all the creatures he had come across. What they look like, their MO, that kind of thing." He paused. "It also has a bunch of information he's dug up trying to track down the thing that killed our mom. S'why he never goes anywhere without it."

The thing that killed their mom when Sam was six months old.

Six months _exactly_? Suddenly, the question was burning too hot for her to ignore.

"Dean?" Her tongue felt heavy, uncooperative in this important venture.

"Yeah?"

"When your mom died… Sam was six months old, right?"

"Yeah."

Her throat was dry, choking her as she tried to ask her next question. "Was it six months _exactly_?"

Dean straightened in his seat, and fixed her with a piercing gaze. "Yes," he replied cautiously.

Jess nodded, knowing the answer to her next question, but having to ask it anyway.

"Was… was it a fire? In his nursery?"

A sharp intake of breath. Then, "How did you know?" Dean demanded.

Jess felt her chest tighten, and she struggled to get enough air into her lungs.

"I've heard my dad tell the story to me," she choked. "I had just turned six months old. Dad was working a late shift. He came home, and went into my nursery to check on me." She had heard the story from him precious few times, and had never stopped to think much about it beyond sadness and muted, distant horror. But now the story meant so much more. Because imagining herself in that position had always been so distant, so hypothetical. But now, all she saw was _Sam_. Her Sam, in the same position. Losing his mother at so young…

"That's where he s-saw my mom… pinned to the ceiling… He had barely managed to lift me out before… the whole room went up in f-flames."

She bent down, head between her legs and forcing herself to take deep breaths.

A hesitant hand landed on her shoulders, and she nearly burst into tears as Dean began to clumsily rub her back.

His hand followed the exact same path that Sam's always did.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pulling herself upright. "I'll be okay now, I promise."

Dean nodded wordlessly, giving her the time she needed.

"It's just… I never realized that the thing that killed my mom did the exact same thing to other moms. Dean, your dad's been hunting this thing for years now, right? Does he know what it is? Why it's killing mothers with babies six months old?"

"Dad—" Dean's voice broke, and he shook his head, trying a second time. "Dad never shared a lot about his research into it. Said it was safest that way. But his journal will have all the information we need. If we can get that, we can see what Dad's written up."

Jess nodded, all her years at Stanford trying to move past hunting temporarily forgotten.

"Both Sam and I were six months old exactly when our moms were killed," Jess wondered out loud. "The connection's with the babies, not necessarily the mothers. Dean, do you think there's something about me and Sam? Something that the monster noticed? Or that he wanted from us?"

Dean shook his head. "I know that you and Sam are good people. Evil things do evil shit. There's no reason for you to blame yourself for your mom dying."

Jess didn't respond, so Dean pressed again.

"Jess? Do you understand?"

"Yeah," she replied. But she remained far from convinced.

"I don't know how many times I got to tell you," Dean told the sheriff. "It's my high school locker combo."

It was the worst lie that Jess had ever heard. What kind of locker combination was 35-111? The sheriff seemed less than impressed as well. Any hope of rattling Dean with the reveal of the journal had faded when Dean was given time to regain his cocky attitude. Dean had been going strong against all the repetitive questions and long stretches with nothing to do for hours now.

"We got to do this all night?" the sheriff asked dryly, and Jess bit back a comment.

Anyone could see that Dean was far from breaking.

Thankfully, they were interrupted by one of the sheriff's deputies sticking his head into the room.

"We just got a 911. Shots fired over on Whiteborough Road."

"Do you have to go to the bathroom?" the sheriff asked blandly.

"No," Dean replied.

Jess shook her head.

"Good."

They were cuffed efficiently to the table, and left alone as the officers left to respond to the call.

"C'mon," Dean prompted as soon as the door was closed. "That's our cue." He reached over to the journal which had been left, thankfully, and pulled out a paperclip. "You know how to pick a set of cuffs?"

"I'll race you," Jess challenged, grabbing the clip from Dean. "What do you mean, our cue?"

"Sam made the call," Dean explained, already unbending his own clip and sticking it in the keyhole for his cuffs.

"A fake 911 call? Sam would do something like that?"

"For you, I think he'd do anything. I'm just glad he's still got his wits about him and didn't try to come storming in here himself to rescue you." He opened his cuffs with a flourish of triumph.

"How are you finished already?" Jess complained. "I've barely even started."

"Practice. But don't be too hard on yourself; I'm guessing you and Sammy don't have any use for these at your apartment." Dean knocked her hands out of the way, and made short work of her own cuffs.

"C'mon, Dean. You think I'm gonna walk into a set-up that big?"

"Worth a try," Dean grinned. He grabbed the journal off the table and shoved it into his inside jacket pocket.

Dean stopped only long enough to lift a holster and gun from a desk drawer.

"Got to love small-town police stations," he smirked.

"How come you get the gun?" Jess demanded.

"Finders keepers," Dean replied childishly. "You want a gun, you find your own. No more of this freeloading weapons off other people crap."

A bit rich coming from the guy who just stole a police gun, but a quick search didn't turn up another weapon, and they didn't have time for a more thorough one. They used the fire escape to get out of the building, and other than a scraped knee of Jess', they were completely unharmed.

"Got any change?" Jess asked.

"What?"

"Payphone up ahead. We can give Sam a call and see where he is."

Dean nodded tersely and dug through his pocket for a few coins. He plugged them into the phone and dialled Sam's number with lightning speed.

Jess watched Dean, barely daring to breathe until a grin broke out on his face.

"Fake 911 phone call, Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal."

"He's okay?" Jess demanded, needing to hear it spelled out for her.

Dean gave her a nod, while speaking to Sam at the same time. "Yeah, she's here with me. We're both fine. Listen, we gotta talk."

Jess squished as close to the phone as she could in the small booth, trying to hear what Sam was saying. All she caught was the phrase "Woman in White."

"Told you," Jess crowed.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean brushed her off. "Now be quiet so I can listen to Sam." He angled the phone a little so Jess could hear Sam better.

"And she's buried behind her old house," Sam was saying, "so that should have been Dad's next stop."

"Sammy, would you shut up for a second?"

"I just can't figure out why he hasn't destroyed the corpse yet," Sam continued.

"Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho."

"What? How do you know?"

Dean looked down at the leather book in his hand. "I've got his journal."

Sam picked up on its significance just as quickly as Dean did. "He doesn't go anywhere without that thing."

"Yeah, well, he did this time."

"What's it say?" Sam demanded.

Apparently, Sam knew that his father would not leave the journal without some sort of message to his sons. The Winchesters appeared to have contingency plans for their contingency plans.

"Same old ex-marine cap when he wants to let us know where he's going."

"Coordinates?" Sam guessed. "Where to?

That made a lot more sense than a locker combination.

"Not sure yet," Dean replied.

"I don't understand," Sam wondered. "I mean, what can be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? Dean, what the hell—"

The next thing Jess knew, she was treated to an earful of shrieking static.

"Sam?" Dean shouted into the mouthpiece. "Sam!"

The sound cut out entirely.

"Dean, what happened?" Jess demanded. She fought to keep the panic that was crawling in her stomach quiet. Sam was gone; missing at night on Centennial Highway, just like so many others…

"I don't know," Dean shook his head.

"Did you hear the—"

"EVP?" Dean completed, a frown building on his forehead. "Yeah. C'mon, we've got to find a car."

"What?" Jess followed him dumbly out of the phone booth. The decision-making part of her brain had been temporarily short-circuited, and she stumbled after Dean, following him blindly.

"Preferably an older model. They're easier to hotwire."

They flanked the street, trying car doors until Jess found one that was open.

"This do?"

"Perfect. Hop in."

"How will we know where Sam is?" She asked fearfully as she settled into the passenger seat.

"He said Constance was buried behind her old house," Dean replied shortly, not looking up from the wires he had exposed. "I'm betting you anything that's where she's taking them."

"You're betting Sam's life," Jess reminded him.

"Yeesh! Thanks for the vote of confidence. Jessica, I've been rescuing Sam since he was six months old, okay? I've got pretty good at it."

"Okay," she agreed, cowed by Dean's reminder. Yes, she was worried sick about Sam, but Dean had every reason to be just as worried. And if he was confident in finding Sam, then she could be too. "Let's go rescue your little brother."

"Okay." The car roared to life and Dean sat up straight, pulling the car into gear. "And don't worry; I won't forget to pick up your boyfriend while we're at it."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: A little longer than my usual length, but I couldn't figure out how to chop it, so I put it all together as one long chapter. There is another note at the bottom, to avoid giving spoilers for this chapter. I hope you enjoyed the story. Please feel free to let me know what you think, positive or negative.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The tense drive over to Constance's former house was completed faster than Jess ever hoped possible. Dean kept his eyes glued on the road as Jess sat in the passenger seat bouncing her leg and willing the car to go faster still.

As they pulled up the drive, Jess glimpsed the Impala sitting in front of the house.

"Dean." She pointed at the car, and Dean nodded abruptly.

The anxiety that had been choking Jess up until now faded, replaced with steely determination. Sam was no longer lost, however he was far from out of danger.

"I still think you should let me have the—"

"Suck it up, Jess, I get the gun," Dean cut in quickly.

Suddenly, a muffled cry from within the Impala brought all of her anxiety back in full force. The inside of the car had lit up, and Jess saw the back of Sam in the driver's seat, writhing in obvious pain.

"Sam!" she shrieked, running forwards behind Dean who had already been spurred into action.

He had pulled out his borrowed gun and fired several shots through the driver's side window of the car, shattering the glass.

Sam groaned, and Jess was barely able to take a glance at him before a horrific figure flicked back into view.

She wore the white clothing that Constance had appeared in on the bridge, but her face had rotted to show the toll years of horrific acts had taken on the state of her fractured soul.

Dean coolly shot more bullets into the ghost's face, and it flickered out again.

"Sam, are you okay?" Jess demanded.

Sam didn't respond in words. He grunted as he straightened up and then threw the car in gear.

"I'm taking you home," he announced nonsensically before stomping on the gas pedal. The car lurched forwards, picking up speed as it ploughed through a fence, the deck railing, and finally the side of the house.

"What the hell was that about?" Jess shouted as she ran to where the car had parked in the middle of the Welchs' former living room.

Dean gave her a confused shrug before he quickly picked his way through the various debris, making his way to the car.

"You okay?" Dean asked his brother. He yanked open the passenger door.

Jess was slightly less held together. "Sam!" she shrieked, pounding uselessly on the top of the vehicle.

"M'okay," he muttered. "Help me out of here?"

Dean grabbed Sam's hand and yanked him from the car. Sam groaned in protest, but managed to keep his footing when he stood.

Jess threw her arms around his chest, ignoring the bigger groan that Sam gave in response. He was okay. Maybe a little achy, but not bleeding or broken. Whatever Constance had done to him, he would survive it.

"Jess." Sam's soft voice jolted her, and she lifted her head to see Constance, visible again as the beautiful young woman she died as. She was holding a picture in her hands and staring at them with cold rage.

One quick step to the side, and suddenly a large cabinet came rushing towards Jess and the brothers. Jess winced as it hit, pinning them effectively to the car. She braced herself as Constance took a step towards them. Given the power of the ghost, Jess expected the rest of the house to come crashing down on them any moment.

But Constance paused, and turned to look up the stairway. Jess felt the temperature plummet as water trickled down the side of the stairs. A light appeared at the top of the stairs and Constance, entranced, moved towards it. Jess craned her neck, but from her position between the car and the cabinet, all she could see was two shadows standing at the top of the stairs. The shadows were small; child-sized.

And in an instant, two children appeared at Constance's feet. She looked at them long enough for a flash of recognition before they were on top of her. A shriek filled the entire house, shaking the walls, as Constance's figure blurred with the other two. They melted together in one mess of blinding light and colour until finally the only thing left was a wet patch on the floor.

The pressure of the cabinet eased, and Jess joined Sam and Dean in pushing it away from them. The boys went to investigate the wet patch, but Jess hung back, knowing that Constance was truly gone.

"So, this is where she drowned her kids?" Dean spoke.

"That's why she could never go home," Sam explained.

"Brilliant," Jess smiled, feeling a surge of pride at Sam's logic. The EVP on John Winchester's voicemail had said exactly that, but she had forgotten all about it until Sam mentioned it just now. At least driving the car into the house made sense now.

"You found her weak spot," Dean nodded. "Nice work, Sammy." He clapped Sam on the chest, and Sam gave a pained gasp.

"I wish I could say the same for you," Sam choked out. "What were you thinking, shooting Casper in the face, you freak?"

"With _regular_ bullets," Jess emphasized.

"Hey, it saved your ass," Dean pointed out to Sam.

"Actually, he's got a point," Jess agreed, turning to look at Sam. "I thought a Woman in White only targets men who've been unfaithful. Got anything you need to get off your chest, Sam?"

Sam's face fell into a look of such horror that Jess could barely keep herself from laughing.

"Jess, I never— it was—She _jumped_ me and forced… I didn't do anything, I swear."

"Of course you didn't," she agreed, laying a gentle hand over the burn marks in his t-shirt. "Because you know that if you did, I'd be a lot more difficult to deal with than some random bitch ghost."

Sam glanced between Dean and Jess, one checking out his car with a frown on his face and the other stroking his chest in a way that could soon become dangerous.

"Can't we just go back to the part where everyone was impressed with me getting rid of Constance?" he pleaded.

Despite Dean's concern, the damage to the car had been mostly on the surface, the worst of which was a busted headlight. They were quickly driving away from that horrible house, stopping briefly to check out of the motel before hitting the highway.

"It's a place called Black Water Ridge in Colorado," Sam announced, putting away the ruler he had used to find the location of John's message.

"You know, if we shag ass, we can be there by morning," Dean commented.

"Dean," Sam reminded him. Which was all he needed to say in order for Dean to understand.

"Yeah, I know. The interview. You two are really just going to head back to your nice normal life at college?"

"It's what we want," Sam insisted.

Dean didn't say anything, but gave Jess a look through his rear view mirror. She didn't need it to recognize her opening, though.

"Um, Sam," she leaned forward in her seat, trying to keep them as close as possible. "Dean told me how your mom died. The fire in your room when you turned six months old?"

"Jess—"

"Sam, you've got to let me finish, okay? Because the exact same thing happened to my mom, Sam. The very night I turned six months old, there was a fire that started in the nursery. My dad and I made it out okay, but my mom… That's what got my dad started hunting. He saw something that night that made him realize what was out there."

"God, Jess…"

"It's okay, Sam," Jess shrugged. "I barely knew my mom; that whole story seems so distant, you know? But now I find out that my family isn't the only one. That thing…"

"Demon," Sam filled in.

"Really?" Dean asked.

"Dad mentioned once that's what he thought it was." Sam was flipping through the journal he held on his lap. "He's got pages of information…" Sam trailed off. "It's gone," he announced after a moment.

"What?" Jess demanded.

"I know Dad had more of this," Sam explained. "All that's left here is a few pages written in some kind of shorthand that I can't understand, and one list of dates and locations." He held up the list for Jess and Dean to see, and Jess immediately recognized one.

"Sam," she pointed. "That one right there. San Francisco, '83. That's me."

Dean frowned. "You don't think that whole list is full of families like ours, do you?"

Jess shrugged, forcing down the nausea she felt building inside her. "It makes sense. This demon, or whatever it is, has a plan that somehow involves babies that are six months old. I bet if we looked up the rest of the items on this list, we'd find similar cases."

"The mothers are just the casualties," Sam nodded in realization. "The real connection is with the babies."

"Okay, hold it right there, doom and gloom squad," Dean interrupted. "This isn't your fault. Either of you."

"Dean, come on. The connection is obvious. Whatever it is, it wasn't after the mothers."

"Maybe so," Dean agreed heavily. "But that doesn't mean it's your fault. You were six months old at the time, Sam. You too, Jessica. Trying to take the blame for this is going to a whole new level of self-blame."

Dean might have been right, Jess thought, but the whole way that she looked at the situation had been changed now. It was no longer an isolated incident that was only a story to Jess. It had become a pattern that included Sam.

"So, what do we do now?" Jess asked the silent car.

"You go back to Stanford," Dean replied. "Both of you."

"Dean—"

"I don't want to hear it, Sam. You want your normal life, you take it. Stay at Stanford, become some hot shot lawyer and get married and have a white picket fence and… I dunno, have barbeques."

The words were spoken with Dean's usual cocky grin, but Jess sensed something else in the car. She couldn't quite put her finger on how she knew, but she felt it somehow.

"You're scared," she told Dean, never more certain of something in her life.

Dean didn't respond beyond a tightening of his jaw.

"Dean?" Sam pushed gently.

"A demon doesn't target six month old babies because it wants to work with them," Dean spoke gruffly. "It targets them to use them. Probably unpleasantly, and in a way that doesn't really give them a choice in the matter. I want that demon's plan as far off track as possible. And I think that staying at college where you'll be normal and educated—"

And safe, Jess added silently.

"—is the best way to deal with this. Until Dad and I track the son of a bitch down and take it out once and for all."

"So, what, I'm just supposed to sit quietly in the library while you and Dad go after the thing?" Sam questioned. "Dean, this is my fight, too."

"And we can still fight it, Sam," Jess told him, touching his shoulder. "Just… on a different end. Dean, you send us any research you need done, okay? Call us any time, day or night, and we'll do it. We'll still be helping, Sam. But we'll also get to have a life at the same time."

"Okay," Sam agreed, mollified. "But, Dean, if you ever need backup, call first, okay? We'll find a way to get to wherever you are."

"And not just if you think you need backup," Jess added. "If you're ever close to us, call and we'll come out to meet you. I may not be a hunter, but I can still kick supernatural butt."

"Deal," Dean grinned. "You know, I gotta tell you, Sammy, for someone who wants it so badly, you really suck at the whole normal life thing. I thought you were gonna run off to college and date some sorority chick while you abused a beer bong every night. But your girl might be the most badass non-hunter I've met."

"I didn't get accepted into my chosen sorority," Jess admitted. "I flipped out on them when they wanted us to visit this supposedly haunted house for pledge week. Apparently, I wasn't enough of a risk-taker."

It wasn't long before Dean pulled up in front of their apartment building. The building was dark; everyone must've been in bed already.

"Are you sure you don't want to come up?" Jess asked Dean as she pulled her duffle out of the trunk.

"Nah, I want to get a few hours of driving in before I stop," Dean replied, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"You'll call as soon as you find Dad?" Sam asked his brother.

"Forget that," Jess rolled her eyes. "Call as soon as you get to Black Water Ridge. You're dealing with a girl as well as your brother now, Dean, expect a lot more conversation from now on."

"Noted," Dean laughed. "It was good meeting you, Jess."

"Likewise," she nodded.

"Dude…" Sam hesitated, rocking forward on his heels awkwardly.

"Sam," Dean nodded back to him.

Jess rolled her eyes again. "I'll give you two a minute to say goodbye," she told them. For all they pretended, she knew that they still liked 'chick-flick' moments with each other. "Talk to you soon, Dean."

She climbed the steps to her apartment by herself, gaining speed as she went. The last couple days had been draining, and she was looking forward to taking a relaxing bath. And if Sam wanted to join her, she wouldn't say no to that. Being on the road with Dean had given them less privacy than when they were living in res, and she was aching for some alone time with him.

The door to their apartment banged against the wall as she pushed it open. Blindly, she searched with her hand along the wall for the light switch. Just as she hit the switch, a voice spoke out in the darkness.

"Hello, Jess."

She bit back a scream as her heart hammered in her chest.

"Brady," she gasped, trying not to show she saw startled. "What are you doing here?"

"Came for a visit," he shrugged. "We need to chat about a couple things, Jessica."

"Oh." Jess tried to appear casual as she inched her way across the kitchen, putting the table between them. Something seemed… off about him. "Wait, how did you get in?" She vividly remembered locking the door before her and Sam had left the apartment.

"Good question, Jess. But really, it's your own fault for being careless. Salt lines are a bitch, but if you want to keep someone like me out, you're going to have to get some better… locks." He blinked, and his eyes flicked to solid black. Jess swallowed down the feeling of wrongness that punched her in the gut.

"How long?" she demanded, hating the tremor in her voice. Frantically, she reviewed her weapons options. In her bag was… nothing. Salt was in the cupboard, but Brady was standing right in front of it. Besides, if he got through the salt line, a sprinkle of table salt really couldn't do much damage to him.

"Long enough for you to wonder if you ever knew the real Brady," the demon teased.

"Why are you here? Does it have to do with my mom? And Sam's"

"Oh, you are a smart girl, aren't you? Who'd have thought that two of my father's special children would meet and fall in love like you and dear Sammy did? Makes you wonder if what you and Sam have is… you know, fully legal." Brady chuckled. "But, love conquers all, I suppose. And that brings me to my business here tonight. Turns out daddy's not too keen on the two of you two buying a minivan together and filling it with salt rounds and rosaries. It might inspire mutiny in the ranks or something."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Jess replied.

"Oh, sweetie, I know you don't. But the good news is, you don't have to worry your pretty little head about it too much longer. See, I hadn't quite decided who I was going to kill yet. The job needed to be done, and I was going to get whoever was most convenient. But, I was always rooting for you, Jessica. You see, it feels just so much more poetic when it's you."

An invisible force slammed her against the wall, pinning her arms and legs back. She tried to cry out, but the words lodged in her throat, choking her.

"A young, beautiful blonde," Brady continued, advancing towards her. "A life full of opportunity ahead of her…"

Jess helplessly felt her body sliding up the wall, the only physical reaction afforded to her was a quickening of her heart rate.

"How do you think Sam will react?" Brady asked casually. "When he comes home to find his true love burning on the ceiling?"

And now there were hot tears dripping down her nose; landing on Brady's laughing face. She felt a sharp pain in her stomach as warm blood began to seep into her t-shirt. She knew what was about to come next, and all she could think of was Sam; poor Sam and what he would find.

The door flew open, and Jess watched dimly as Sam and Dean charged through. Brady received a face full of holy water before he could even blink. Hissing, he retreated to the corner by their stove.

"Where is she?" Sam demanded.

"R-reaching new heights," Brady choked out before Dean threw another dose of holy water at him.

Sam looked up to the ceiling, and Jess could barely see for all the tears that were clouding her eyes. _Don't look, Sam_, she pleaded silently. _I don't want you to see this. _

"Sam!" Dean shouted. "Exorcism."

"Right," Sam agreed, tearing his eyes away from Jess. He began to speak haltingly in Latin, and the demon howled instantly, arching its back.

Jess felt the hold on her slacken and she wriggled as much as she could, trying to gain some sort of control of her body.

But Sam stopped speaking abruptly, staring at the drop of blood that had appeared on his hand.

"Jess?" His eyes whipped back up to her. "You're bleeding!"

"No! Sam!" she shouted, seeing the demon sitting up on the floor and starting to recover.

"Too late," Brady spoke breathlessly. "No devil's trap, no reason for me to stick around and get sent back downstairs. But don't worry, kids. This is far from over." Black smoke poured out of Brady's mouth and shot out the window.

At the same time, Jess found herself on the floor, half in Sam's arms.

"Jess?" Sam asked frantically. "Are you okay?"

"Sam…" she couldn't bring herself to say anything else. All she could do was bury herself in his jacket, absorbing his touch and sound and smell until everything else, all the wrong she had just witnessed, disappeared.

It was Dean's voice that brought her back to reality.

"The kid's dead," he announced quietly.

"He didn't stand much of a chance," Jess explained to the brothers with a hoarse voice. "He's been possessed for years now."

"Jess. Are you okay?" Sam had lifted up the hem of her shirt, she realized, and was pressing a tea towel against her abdomen.

"I don't think the cut was very deep," she replied. He had been too busy wounding her emotionally to get far with the physical damage.

"I'll check it in a minute," Sam said.

Jess nodded blankly. "And then we have to clean up. And decide. Do we call the police for this or take care of it ourselves? Because it will look suspicious to the cops. But people will notice… They'll notice that B-brady…"

"Shh… Jess…" Sam gave her as tight of a hug as he could with the one free arm he had. "It'll be okay, Jess. We're all okay."

"We can't stay here anymore, Sam," she sobbed. "We can't be here anymore. Our life here, it's gone, all of it."

The back of the Impala had become a sanctuary for Jess; full of love and comfort hot chocolate that she couldn't bring herself to drink but still warmed her hands. She tried to stay awake, despite the calming movement of the car, afraid of what she might dream of when she closed her eyes. Dean was in the front, eyes on the slowly brightening road as they drove to Colorado, and Sam was sitting beside her in the back, keeping her safe with his powerful arms around her.

It had not taken them long to pack what they needed; they just took a little more than they had a few days previously. As much as Jess regretted leaving her strappy shoes with the flowers and her straightening iron, she knew they wouldn't have much place with her where they were going. Black Water Ridge.

"Do you have any idea what your dad would be doing in Colorado?" Jess asked sleepily.

"We'll have to find out when we get there," Dean shrugged. "Should be there in a couple hours."

She nodded, feeling her chest tighten. They had already driven for so long. They were that much further away from Palo Alto. From home. Tears sprung up from her eyes again, and Sam wiped them away softly.

"Sorry," she apologized damply. "I was just thinking about how we'll never wake up to hear that stupid old fridge clanking in the middle of the night. Or have to scrape off the burnt side of the toast and then put it back in the toaster to do the other side."

"I'm sorry, Jess," Sam apologized softly.

"No, Sam, I recognize that apology. You can't blame yourself. Even if you had managed to exorcise the demon, we still would have had to leave. The monster responsible for all this just would have sent another one. I told you; he wants one of us dead. I dunno, maybe at this point, he wants to kill both of us. We need to be on the road, trying to find it rather than become sitting ducks trying to keep our apartment fortified."

"You're right," he agreed softly.

"I usually am," she teased lightly.

He huffed a soft laugh, and held her a little tighter.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, Jess?"

"How did you know that I was in trouble? You and Dean came storming in with holy water and an exorcism on the ready. You must've known there was a demon in the apartment with me."

Sam shared a silent glance with Dean before beginning to speak.

"I've been seeing it for a while, Jess. At night, in my dreams. At first, I thought it was just a nightmare; taking what I knew about my mom and applying it to you. But then, when Dean and I were in the car talking, I saw it again: you, on the ceiling, surrounded by fire. With Brady in it as well. And I wasn't asleep that time, and suddenly, I don't know how, I knew that it was actually going to happen."

"So, you had a vision? Like a psychic?"

"I don't know, Jess," Sam shook his head. "It's never happened to me before."

But it would happen again; Jess was sure about that. People didn't ever just have one isolated premonition. And Jess couldn't help but think that Sam's premonition was somehow tied into the demon. After all, a hunter doesn't believe in coincidences.

"We'll figure it out, Sam. The important thing is, you saved my life. We'll figure out the rest of it as we go."

Go to find the Winchester's father, find the demon, maybe even find the other families affected by it? The task seemed impossibly daunting to Jess. Her father had donated his life to it, and still had not found the creature responsible for her mother's death. How on earth were they supposed to complete that quest?

She felt Sam nod beside her, his gentle determination steadying her.

"We've got work to do," he agreed.

A/N: So, I couldn't kill Jess. I got too attached. ;) I am planning on a sequel to this story, so look out for it. I am not, however, planning on rewriting all of the S1 episodes with Jess in them. The story I will write will probably go quite AU, keeping the YED's original plan intact and all that, but changing how it all comes about


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